


Just A Millisecond Too Late

by KattisCat



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Angst, Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Gen, Hurt Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Protective Parent Hank Anderson, Worried Hank Anderson, honestly hank's a good parent can he like adopt me please thanks, scared connor, who the fuck needs this many curse words in a story, whoops my hand slipped sorry connor looks like you're getting the old razzle dazzle, you're too slow!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:14:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23682187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KattisCat/pseuds/KattisCat
Summary: In which Connor hesitates just a tiny bit too long in the Cyberlife tower, and now he's terrified of the consequences.
Relationships: Hank Anderson & Connor, No Romantic Relationship(s)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 253





	Just A Millisecond Too Late

"My son, what's his name?"

Connor knew this. He was there, he was at Hank's house, and he had analyzed the photo. _He_ was the one that did that. Not the imposter, who looked absolutely identical down to the placement of his freckles.

The similarities were to be expected. They were the same model, probably made at the same time, and, if Connor was successful in his now meaningless mission, might've even worked in the same department. But here he was, standing in the Cyberlife tower, with his friend, partner, and- if he wasn't wholly embarrassed to say it- his parental figure, holding a gun at both him and a machine.

It's idle position matched Connor's. It's head moved lightly, as if analyzing the world in front of it, and tugged at it's uniform sleeves.

That irked Connor. That was _his_ nervous tick. That was something that he had figured out, and it was something that had brought him comfort. It wasn't made for a machine, who didn't think about emotions, didn't think about how icy the stare of Amanda's would be when he went back to the garden, who didn't know what it was like to be thrown off a roof, or get shot, or have a knife stabbed through his own hand. Sure, he might've had the memories, but at the end of the day, it was Connor who had to rip out the knife, with overwhelming error messages. It was Connor who choked on his own thirium as the bullet lodged somewhere in his chest. It was Connor who fell stories to the ground, feeling the wind push against his back and the desperate ringing in his audio processors because _oh god he already fucked up his first field body-_

The thought had spiraled into a very silent panic. His eyelids fluttered ever-so-slightly, and if Hank was not busy analyzing the machine, he probably would've seen the terror in Connor's eyes as a voice broke through his audio processors, almost making him wince.

"His name was Cole. Cole Anderson."

The deafening ringing was back, as if it was taunting him. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuckfuck _fuckfuckfuckfuck-_

It was over. He was going to die. He didn't want to die. He wanted to live. He wanted to be on the old couch, giving pets to Sumo, he wanted to make sure Hank didn't drown himself in alcohol, he wanted to be out of his uncomfortable uniform and away from this fucking hellhole, away from the hundreds of spare parts, away from the metallic smell, away from the fluorescent lights that were blinding him at this very moment.

Connor was scared- no, _terrified_ \- of the gun. His breath hitched as he heard a rustling noise- probably Hank, aiming to shoot him- and choked on a sob. He had failed. The machine had won, and now he wouldn't be able to go home.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he couldn't stop himself as his knees gave out and his body folded to the floor.

"I-it wasn't your fault, lieutenant! A truck skidded on a sheet of ice and your car rolled over. Cole needed emergency surgery, but no human was available to do it, so an android had to take care of him. Cole didn't make it." He gasped out, his breathing stuttering. If he was going to die, then he at least wanted to try and fix one last thing. "That's why you hate androids. That's.... why you hate _me_."

Connor couldn't stop the tears from flowing anymore, and he squeezed his trousers, not daring to look up. The machine said something, but he couldn't hear it through the sounds of static. If Connor were human, he would have no doubt that his ears would be bleeding from the noise.

An interface popped up on his line of sight.

**WARNING - Stress Levels 91% ^^^**

The stress levels were probably the least of Connor's concern right now. A weight was, in a both figurative and literal sense, being placed on his shoulders. He had to fight the urge to flinch, painfully aware that the sudden touch had spiked his stress levels to an unbearably high 98%.

"-nor! Connor, son, you gotta look at me." The audio was a sharp contrast to the grinding static in his processors, and he risked a glance at the source.

He didn't know what he was expecting, but the concerned eyes of Hank was not it.

"Atta boy. Breathe for me, okay? And don't give me that 'androids don't need oxygen' bullshit."

The man inhaled dramatically, providing an example for Connor. He tried- oh, how he tried- to mimic the stable breath, but he was shaking far too much, and eventually coughed on his own air. He swore that he felt just a hint of thirium rise in his throat, but didn't investigate any further.

"That was a start. Come on, Con. You can do it."

Connor nodded, following the instructions of his partner. He inhaled again, shuddering as a new sensation of coldness entered his system. He held the breath for a few seconds, and gave a trembling exhale as Hank did so as well. He couldn't help but notice the fingers that were rubbing circles on his shoulders, giving the android some much-needed comfort. Connor couldn't stop himself, and he lurched forward to give the lieutenant a hug.

Hank hesitated for just a millisecond before wrapping his arms around the other. The man snuck a glance at the other Connor and winced at the sight of blue blood pouring out of it's head. He knew it wasn't his Connor, his Connor was safely in his arms, having a breakdown.

But god it looked like him. He thought back to the time where Connor had gotten shot in the Stratford tower, and how human he looked as he was laid on the floor, groaning in what must've been the android-equivalent of pain.

He was shot back to the present as Connor clutched the back of his jacket, his sobs slowly but surely evening out into hiccups. "There ya go. You okay?"

Connor nodded into Hank's neck, not quite letting go, but loosening up from the tense posture he had been in for the fleeting minutes he had embraced Hank. The man in question rubbed circles on his back before pushing gently, so Connor was now at arm's length.

"I'm sorry, kid. I didn't expect ya to- well... y'know. Freak out." Hank started, looking Connor in his wide brown eyes. The eyes that didn't give a chill down his spine, the ones that didn't feel hollow. God, the more and more he thought about it, the more he noticed all the little things that he had overlooked when holding both him and the imposter at gunpoint.

"It's.... okay, Hank. It wasn't your fau-lt." He looked around, finally catching a glimpse of the machine on the floor. "How- why.... didn't you shoot me? I took too long. I-I didn't...."

Hank snorted. "What, are you kidding? The fuckin' bastard might be good at actin' like ya, but I don't think even _it_ could pull off something as convincing as whatever the fuck just happened." He paused, before sighing lightly. "I mean, what's more human than the fear of death?"

The android shuddered, still trying to wrap his head around the fact that _holy shit he was alive, he was going to go home, and he'd be able to find comfort in a blanket, and Sumo, and Hank, and god that sounded amazing right about now._

But he couldn't leave just yet. He came here for a reason, and he needed to fulfill his promise to Markus.

Hank seemed to understand the newfound determined glint in his eye as the android looked around, and patted Connor on the shoulder while nodding. "Yeah. Do whatever the fuck you gotta do. I'll wait."

With a grateful smile, Connor shakily got up. He already missed the warmth of the other, and longed for another hug, but now was not the time. His eyes raked the androids, before they landed on a very particular male. He walked over, his steps getting more steady as the skin on his hand deactivated. He grabbed the arm of the android, and took a deep breath.

_"Wake up."_

**Author's Note:**

> and sometimes it really do be like that
> 
> uhh lessee what do people usually shove in their notes i don't write often and it shows
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/users/MatryoshkaDoll413/pseuds/MatryoshkaDoll413 <\-- this user really inspires me and they write shit like this except it's 10000% better, check them out
> 
> anyways i was thinking about this the other day and i made a drabble, and then my hand slipped and whoops i actually wrote something
> 
> ps please stop trying to murder me through the screen about the gavin900 fic please thanks
> 
> also i draw a lot https://www.deviantart.com/kattiscat you can find me here
> 
> And That's All Folks, see you again in 9809322 years


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